


In the Tangle of the Roots

by iloveklaus



Category: Uprooted - Naomi Novik
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2018-09-18 19:49:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9400556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iloveklaus/pseuds/iloveklaus
Summary: After defeating the Wood, Sarkan flees to the capital--hoping to rescue the kingdom, but also hoping to escape his feelings for Agnieszka. Meanwhile, Agnieszka establishes her new life as an independent witch and a caretaker of the Wood. Though her mind is filled with thoughts of Sarkan, she can't deny that Kasia is the one who has truly always been there for her.





	1. The Capital; A Distracted Mind

After Agnieszka and I left the Wood, I fled to the Capital almost immediately. As I rode, I tried not to picture her dismay and finding my library empty the next morning. There would be no tears, I knew--I wasn’t that self-involved to think I was worth open bawling. But my imagination conjured the slightest quivering of Agnieszka’s lip--a quiver loaded with both sadness and disgust. Ah yes, he’s back to his old unstable, erratic tricks, of course. What a surprise.

But it wasn’t just a predilection for emotional unavailability, let me be clear. If I’m being honest, some fraction of a percentage of my soul was ever-so-slightly devastated at the thought of separating myself from Agnieszka after our brief, tumultuous reunion--but there was work to be done; a reality confirmed on the morning when I arrived at the Capital to find it in a state of disrepair. I had started seeing the scattered rubble a mile before the city border. By the time I arrived, it became evident that most buildings were down to a few bricks. The roads were covered with dirt and debris. The people look lost, wandering.

Alosha greeted me by what was left of the castle gate. Her face was as stoic as ever, but I sensed an underlying rush of relief. The worst of it was over--even I had to acknowledge that. Whatever work we were about to embark on couldn’t possibly be worse than what we had already been through.

“Sarkan,” Alosha nodded. Her face was home to a few new scars I didn’t recognize. Her arms and legs were covered with thick, silky-looking mail, but I imagined there were a few more new additions to her collection lurking below.

“Alosha,” I returned, dismounting my horse. As I held to the reins, I realized I had expected a stable boy to materialize and see to my mount. But no, the only others around us were a few peasants, sorting through the rubble for the remnants of a tapestry or a glint of a jewel. I wanted to scoff at them, but I felt capable of only pity.

“You’ll have to take her to the stable yourself,” Alosha gestured to my horse. “Not much in the way of service around here these days.”

“I see that,” I sniffed. One of the peasants was eyeing my red velvet cloak a little too lustfully.

“Come. I’ll show you the way. We have much to discuss as it is.” As Alosha headed out, I noticed her limping slightly. Her left leg clanged with the weight of its metal enclosure each time she set it down in stride.

“Can’t you fix that?” I asked.

“No,” she barked, knowing what I was referring to immediately. “Solya must have put some enchantment on the soldier’s swords. I can’t shake it,” she added more solemnly. 

“Can I see? Perhaps Agnieszka and I could--”

“Forget it.” Alosha picked up the pace. We were heading down a gully where it seemed to me there used to be a cobblestone path. The cobblestones were all turned up now, and I had to hold up the hem of my cloak to avoid tripping. I wanted to stop and sort the stones--make something in this place half-decent--but Alosha was gaining on me, despite her limp. “How is Agnieszka anyway?” she called back.

“How should I know?” I called. I could see the stables in the distance. Half had burned down, leaving a charred hole that was now blocked up with hay. Two horses grazed in the adjoining pen. Some normalcy, at least.

“She’s not locked up in your tower for safekeeping?” Alosha asked. I couldn’t tell if this was supposed to be a joke.

“No,” I said. “As a matter of fact she’s not.” Pause. “And as a matter of fact I don’t even know where she is.” Judging by the sudden widening of Alosha’s eyes, this last part came off a bit more desperate than I’d hoped.

“She’s safe, right?”

“Yes. I know that much. She’s safe.”

Despite having “much to discuss,” Alosha and I continued to the stables in silence. The topic of Agnieszka, the still-fresh memory of the battle--it made the both of us quiet. Only when my horse was fed and watered did Alosha rest herself on a bale of hay, and invited me to do the same.

 “I’ll stand.” I leered down at the hay and watched a fieldmouse emerge from its base. I pulled my cloak closer to my body, though the late-afternoon sun was beating down in sizzling waves.

“She’s not a bad witch, your apprentice,” Alosha offered, staring off into the distance.

“Can we not talk about Agnieszka?” I snapped. “And she’s not my apprentice. Please. We have much else to attend to.”

“Well you haven’t changed,” Alosha growled, finding no charm in my defensiveness. Admittedly, I knew this was not the time for my “moods” as some have called them in the past, but I couldn’t help it. It was as though Agnieszka was haunting me. Not just in the form of Alosha’s pestering, but all around me. Though we were miles away, when I looked at a leaf or a twig or a tree, it was as though I could feel her magic suddenly creeping up my fingertips--that simple, straightforward magic, the texture of homespun cloth. It had been that way ever since the night we--

“Anyway, our first order of business is to organize a council. Representatives from the villages have been arriving over the past few days, but everyone is too restless to wait around. I was thinking tonight we hold a private session in the Queen’s chambers. Just to establish the structure of the next few weeks. No doubt you and I are going to be on repair duty for some time, so I hope you brought your working cloak… 

Alosha continued on, with me offering a well-placed nod here and there. I was distracted completely. I did my best to make my face appear serious and pensive, but inside I was all over the place. Agnieszka, the battle, my tower, the Queen, the Wood. How was Alosha forming complete sentences right now? I had never felt more unfit for duty.

By the time Alosha finished explaining her plan, she had grown suspicious of my distraction and suggested, with a squint of her dark eyes, that we retire for some rest before dinner.

Most of the castle was unusable--unless you wished to bathe, dress, and sleep in the open air. The majority of the underground chambers were untouched, though, and the dungeons now acted like a bustling inn for the various dignitaries and representatives of Polyna.

I was shown to a particularly dank and dusty room at the end of the hall. Alosha made herself scarce before I could launch into complaint. I sighed and reluctantly conjured a fire in the tiny hearth. I tossed my cloak and boots over a metal chair and threw myself across the bed. The mattress was so hard the force nearly snapped my back in two.

And yet, I fell asleep almost instantly. My body was worn, my magic felt teetering on empty. I craved Agnieszka’s power, her voice, her presence, her scowl. How pathetic I was. I had managed to survive and to thrive for more than a hundred years before she was even born. Now, I lay in a ruinous castle, feeling disgusted with the certainty that she was the only person who could make me feel whole.

 


	2. A Slice of Cake; An Old Friend

When Sarkan left for the Capital, I was hardly surprised. I could sense his departure from the moment I awoke. _Good,_ I thought. _Let him leave. Let him continue to rot in his own misery._ But a part of me knew I would miss him; knew I would be the weaker for it. I imagined casting a wall of thorns around this part of myself and forgetting it completely, like Sarkan was clearly able to do so easily when it came to thoughts of me.

I wasted no time fleeing the drafty halls of Sarkan’s castle and, with a few pilfered books and a clean tunic in tow, I headed for the Wood. Yes, Kralia needed to be rebuilt. Yes, a temporary government needed to be installed. But no one seemed to want to acknowledge the fact that business with the Wood was far from over. I couldn’t be the only one who felt the evil, though abated, still pulsing below the soil of Polnya.

Near the edge of the Wood, perhaps three miles from Dvernik, I found a glade. Here, I conjured a cottage, stone by stone. I knew I couldn’t operate out of the Dragon Tower. There, I still felt vulnerable. Memories of the battle lingered too fresh. I knew I could not return to Dvernik, either. As much as I yearned for the familiar faces of my parents, of Kasia, it would be a mistake to think that my life there could ever resemble the life of my childhood. If I were to be a truly independent witch, I needed a homestead of my own.

The cottage I constructed was not unlike one of the many homes found in Dvernik, only squatter on the outside and breezier on the inside. A circular wooden door marked the entrance to a single large room with sleeping, cooking, and studying areas. I did not expect to need much more than this. The furniture I constructed of wood, and the mattress of straw. I filled the bookshelves with a few of the tomes I had snatched from Sarkan’s near-infinite library. A hearth along the wall filled the home with warmth and light, and gave rise to a cylindrical chimney atop the thatched roof. Almost at once, I felt as at home as I had in months.

* * * 

One evening, I returned to my cottage at sundown, exhausted but satisfied. The end of summer was coming fast, and the slight breeze in the air meant I must work harder and more quickly in order to compensate for the shortening days. I tried not to think of what the Wood might bring in the dead of winter.

After unlacing my boots and leaving them by the door, I prepared a small fire in the hearth and set a copper kettle of water to boil. As my cottage warmed, I laid out the contents of my cloth satchel across the wooden kitchen table: a mix of mushrooms, medicinal herbs, foraged root vegetables. There was also a small selection of strange, mutated flowers--the latest in a series of findings. I picked up one of the purplish buds and held it to the firelight. I admitted it looked far more harmless here, against stone and straw. Still, I wondered.

I analyzed them again, looking far more harmless in the warm light of her cottage. Still, what mysteries did these plants hold? Lest she think too much, Agnieszka put them in a clear glass jar on a high shelf, for later study.

Though cooking was not my speciality, I could not deny my hunger after a day spent working in the Wood. I muttered a series of cantrips and managed to prepare a hearty--if common--meal of roasted potatoes with rosemary, and a glistening cut of duck. I filled an earthenware mug with strong, hot tea.

As I ate, I read from one of the many texts she had managed to steal away from Sarkan’s personal library. On this evening in particular, I was studying the work of a witch named Belladonna, who had reportedly brewed the most powerful love potion in history. According to the text, she managed to unite two kingdoms who had warred for centuries with a single slice of chocolate cake. I frowned. It was tragic how many had died for a cause that ultimately came down to a bite of sugar and frosting. Still, I had to admit that magic served its purpose in many forms. This was a fact I was still getting used to.

When I finished my meal, Agnieszka took her book to a comfortable chair that was situated near the fire and continued reading until her eyes grew heavy. In most respects, her days were not unlike this one. I rose with the sun, dressed, and headed into the Wood. While there was light, I explored and mapped the area. Occasionally, my investigations lead to sparring and purifying of lurking corruption. If I found anything unusual, I bottled it and kept it in my cloth knapsack for further research.

When the sun began to wane, I headed back to my cottage at the Wood’s edge. Here, I ate, studied, and experimented. It was a simple routine, but it was my own. Far better to dictate her own life than to bow to the whims of Sarkan, I thought.

Still, I admitted to occasional bouts of loneliness. There were nights when the laughter and music of Dvernik seeped through my thatched roof and into my soul. Many nights I resisted the temptation to rejoin the ranks of bakers and weavers and farmers and schoolchildren. When I felt truly sad, I would conjure myself a slice of apple cake, trying to weave my mother’s baking magic into my spell. It never turned out quite the same.

On this particular night, my mind wandered from my studies and into Dvernik. I realized it had been weeks since I had spoken with Kasia. My not returning to Dvernik was one thing, but I could not imagine the difficulty she must be facing trying to make sense of her life, not after all she had been through at my expense.

Despite the warm fire and the strong tea, I was suddenly wide awake, fuming at my own selfishness. Here I was, mentally cursing Sarkan at every opportunity and yet I, neglectful of Kasia, was no better. Maybe he was rubbing off on me.

Compelled to set things right immediately, I scrounged in my desk for a sheet of paper and a quill. As I began writing in my misshapen, scratchy hand, my thoughts flew faster than I could record them. How did I not realize how much I missed Kasia?

* * *

_My Dearest Kasia,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. First, I must apologize--since the battle we have hardly spoken and I am to blame. You went through so much for me--were my emotional and physical strength--and I don’t even think I thanked you. I was too preoccupied with magic and with the Wood to think about anything else. I hope you’ll forgive me._

_I miss Dvernik dearly and wish I was there with you now, sharing a slice of apple cake or even just feeding the chickens on a sunny day. Life really has changed so much in such a short amount of time, hasn’t it? I feel like we were girls only yesterday. And, I guess, we were--weren’t we? And now…?_  

_This new chapter of life is strange and lonely, but I must remember that I am not navigating it alone. I hope you feel the same. Though I have failed you as a friend, I will not repeat this mistake. I am here for you._  

_I am living in the Wood now, working on cleansing the Wood and studying magic by night. Please visit soon._

_Love,_

_Your Agnieszka_


End file.
